


put the kettle on

by gingerishfish



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Adam Parrish Loves Ronan Lynch, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:34:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25155559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingerishfish/pseuds/gingerishfish
Summary: Early morning tea drinking
Relationships: Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Comments: 8
Kudos: 82
Collections: TRC Fic Drabbles With Friends!





	put the kettle on

Adam was awake before Ronan for once, so he crept down the stairs at the Barns to the kitchen. Everything was quiet without Ronan breathing life into it. He grabbed the kettle from the sink—it wasn’t really dirty, how could plain water make it dirty?—and turned on the stove. Another dream thing. The burner was instantly hot and the perfect temperature to boil the water.

The tea leaves were also a dream thing. It started as a joke.

_Read my future, Parrish._

_You’ll grow hair in your ears before you’re thirty._

_Fuck you._

_Maybe later._

Adam breathed in the scent. Different every time, with each sniff or sip. It tasted like cinnamon and cardamom this morning. It needed sugar. The next sip was better, sweeter and the flavor fuller. The smell woke Ronan, and soon Adam had a growth attached to his back. Pointed chin digging slightly into his shoulder, two arms sneaking around his waist for a hug and to better grab at the tea.

It felt greedy, but Adam lived for these moments. The silence. The comfort. The weight of a dreamer hanging on him like he needed Adam to breathe. The scent of the tea mixed with the scent of Ronan's sleep smell.

Ronan pinched his stomach.

“You’re faraway again.”

“Lynch, I’m practically carrying you.”

“Your eyes dipshit. Cabeswater?”

“No, just thinking.”

“Hmm.”

Ronan let go of him, pulled himself up on a counter, and drank Adam’s tea.

“I made two cups, you know.”

“Yours tastes better.”

“They taste however you want them to,” Adam said, taking the cup back. He took another sip, and now it had an earthier base. Because everything Ronan touched reminded him of Cabeswater.

“I’d dream about you... you know, before _this_ ,” Ronan whispered. Adam didn’t catch all the words, but his lip reading was improving.

“About me?”

“Before this was real.”

“What would you dream about? Oh god, there’s not like an Adam sex doll somewhere, is there?”

“I’m not a whore, Parrish. I waited for the real deal.” His grin was all fire. Adam’s heart beat sped up a few ticks. He felt the flush starting to crept up his neck, to his cheeks. He looked out the window, at anything other than Ronan's wolf grin. _Fucking blushing._

“So what did you dream about?”

“I’d dream of your hands.”

Adam laughed. His hands were knobby and scarred up and worn. He was eighteen years old but his hands looked like they were fucking fifty.

“They’re perfect,” Ronan said.

“I feel like a thief,” Adam said. Ronan stayed quiet. He waited. Any time Adam started a sentence with _“I feel”_ or _“I think,”_ Ronan kept his mouth firmly shut. Any admission of emotion was rare. Adam being willing to share was rarer.

“Every time I'm here it feels like I’m waiting for the bottom to drop out. Like it’s gonna be gone.”

“I could dream up a parachute for you.”

“Cute.”

“I’m fucking adorable,” Ronan beamed. Adam did too. He was suddenly thankful Ronan didn’t pursue the conversation. Admitting _‘I love you’_ to Ronan Lynch was like swallowing gasoline, and he didn’t have the stomach for that just yet.

“So what’re we doing today? I’m off.”

“Miracle of miracles.”

The tea had gone cold, and Adam abandoned it in favor of the warmth of Ronan’s chest. When did he cross the room to lean against him? He didn’t remember moving. He leaned against the counter, his head in the crook of Ronan’s neck.

“I think we should go back to bed,” Adam said. It was about as bold as he’d been. He felt his knees start to lock so he shifted before Ronan noticed. _What if he says no? Am I asking for too much? This is too fast, this is--_

“It is early as fuck,” Ronan said.

Ronan weaved his fingers with Adam’s. “I’m not really tired anymore.”

The blush that started as just a twinge, stained his face and neck. Adam hoped he wasn't _actually_ sweating from it.

Ronan’s grin was volcanic at this point.

“Sleep is overrated.”


End file.
